


Brothers and Sons

by WonderWafles



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Kidnap Family learning how to be a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderWafles/pseuds/WonderWafles
Summary: A new star rises from the West. Maglor and Maedhros aren't the only ones to take notice.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2020





	Brothers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazTheBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/gifts).



> Hello! We've all probably figured this out by now, but this gift is for JazTheBard, who gave me a very lovely prompt about the Peredhil and Elrond in particular (my favorite topics!) :) I hope you like it!

If Maglor tried his best, strained his understanding and senses to their limits, he thought he could feel the faintest touch from the newest star in the sky, like a gentle hand on his shoulder that whispered comfort.

It was how he knew he was imagining things, because he knew in his bones that the star was a Silmaril, and the Light of the Silmarils would do far worse things than comfort him now.

If he looked over, he could tell that something similar was going through Maedhros’ head. His brother was fixed to the gaze, lips parted slightly in amazement or fear. 

Eärendil had made it. Somehow, the Silmaril they last saw in the hands of Elwing (the woman they _murdered_ ) had made it to the West.

Gladness and weariness and fear all warred in his head.

“Surely that is a Silmaril that shines now in the West,” he heard his brother say, mechanically. He was well aware he was stating the obvious, but he was seeking something from Maglor nonetheless. Confirmation, or comfort.

In later days, they would say Maglor replied with words of hope, of happiness that the Silmaril was now beyond evil - beyond _them_. And indeed, Maglor thought of it, realized his relief that that holy gem would not be touched by evil hands. His hands.

But instead, he watched the rising star and said nothing at all.

…

Their camp didn’t look any different now. Somehow, Maglor expected that it would, and it was more a relief than a disappointment to find it was still as dingy and uncomfortable as it was before it was touched by the faint star-light of the Silmaril.

He was worried about Maedhros. As they walked, his brother had kept his face to the ground, hair matted and dull falling into his face. 

“Maedhros?” he asked. When was the last time he had called his brother by his Quenya mothername? He couldn’t remember. Sometime after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, after they had no realms of their own any more.

“I’m going to bed,” Maedhros said. He looked at Maglor, and to his surprise, feigned a smile. Even through devastated eyes, it was clear Maedhros was trying to make him feel better. “We’ll talk in the morning. Don’t let the twins stay up too late.”

Maglor tried his best to smile back, but he doesn’t think he succeeded. “Of course. Sleep well.”

Maedhros disappeared into his tent, leaving Maglor alone. The night air was chill, and the spreading sky above him was dark and fathomless.

He sighed, and scuffed the snow with his foot. He had to find the twins, who were surely playing somewhere nearby. He had to get them to bed - and perhaps seeing them again might calm his nerves somewhat.

“Elrond?” he called softly. “Elros?”

No answer. He hoped they hadn’t wandered too far. He wasn’t their jailer, to keep them at his side against their will (especially with their history), but he wasn’t about to let them wander away into the wilderness where evil things ruled.

He checked their tents to make sure. Empty. He felt a chill, but forced it back.

“Elrond? Elros?” This time, a bit louder. His voice still felt small, swallowed up by the trees and the snow.

No use for it. He would have to venture out. He wrapped his cloak around himself and grabbed a torch. He considered it for a moment. As night settled in, he would have little hope of finding the twins with his sight alone - but an Elf carrying a light, alone, in the Enemy’s fell winter, was almost too tempting a target.

He decided almost instantly. If it would help him find the twins, the risk was worth it.

He trudged out of the camp, grabbing only his dagger to hang at his hip, his breath fogging before him, and a sudden wind piercing him through. The torch guttered, but remained faithful. He clenched his teeth, and kept his eyes focused ahead of him.

Almost immediately, he spotted their tracks, almost covered up by the snow. The two of them, side by side, had wandered off into the trees further up the northern hill.

Maglor felt a twinge of annoyance. Hadn’t he and Maedhros drilled into them, over and over, how dangerous the countryside could be? If their lesson hadn’t taken, then surely Elwing had done the same.

_If someone had tried to tell you and Maitimo not to wander Aman like a pair of questing dwarves, it wouldn’t have made a difference_ , the irritating voice inside of him that sounded awfully like Feänáro said.

_Things are different, now_ , he thought. But he felt his annoyance fade, replaced by worry alone.

As he walked, Maglor found that the light of his torch was hardly necessary anymore. The moon was full, and this night it seemed brighter than before. He wondered if it was somehow catching the light of the newborn star - or perhaps Tilion was just happy to see a newcomer in the sky.

Still, he realized that he was more concerned with the twins being able to find him than he was with attracting the attention of the Enemy’s creatures. He left the torch lit.

As he walked further into his forest, his sharp ears picked up something. Whispering, from somewhere in the trees.

For a second, he felt rooted to the ground in fear, but it passed. He took a deep breath, and strained to hear more.

Despite his readiness, or at least his acceptance, of a fight, when he recognized the unmistakable sounds of the boys’ voices he nearly collapsed in relief.

He brushed through the snow, waving his torch about. He called their names once again, this time strong and fearless. “Elrond! Elros!”

The whispering stopped. As Maglor entered the little clearing, their faces, pale under the moonlight, fixed on him. The twins were sat on a log, leaning close to one another to talk. He was glad that at least they were trying to be quiet.

Elros looked away as though embarrassed of something. Elrond just held his gaze, steady and true. “Makalaurë,” he said.

He had told them about his Quenya name only after much begging. “So formal,” was the only thing Maglor could think to say. He smiled from pure relief. “You two frightened me. Why did you come out here? Aren’t you cold?”

He was giving them too many questions to answer. He changed tack. “How are you?” he asked softly.

The twins shared a glance. Not for the first time, Maglor got the sense they were talking to each other in ways he couldn’t understand. “We’re fine,” Elros said. Elros was never timid, but the normal boldness and exuberance was missing from his voice.

Maglor hesitated, words of comfort on his tongue. Slowly, he approached them and sat down next to them on the log (even now, Kinslayer’s hands, dripping with familial blood, too close? Is he too close? When will they start to hate him as they should?) and took a deep breath.

“What about you?” Elrond asked. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” Maglor said, maybe too quickly.

“He was worried about us,” Elros murmured.

“Of course I know that,” Elrond snapped. Maglor felt the ghost of a smile return at the sight of brothers’ bickering. “I mean, do you feel the star too?”

It took a few moments for Maglor to know what to say. “Feel the star?” he asked. “Do you mean the new one?”

Elrond held his gaze in a no duh so obvious it echoed back to Aman. 

“I don’t feel it,” he said. “I see it. It’s…”

The unspoken word hung between them. As ever, it took Elros to break the stalemate.

“The Silmaril,” he said. “Emig’s jewel.”

_Ada’s jewel_ , Maglor thought loyally. Even though he no longer believed, in his heart of hearts, that was true.

“How did it get there?” Elrond asked. 

“I don’t know,” Maglor said. “But it must have made it to the West, somehow. The Valar hung it in the sky to give us... hope.”

To his surprise, Elrond spat on the ground. Maglor always forgot that on the subject of the mercy of the Valar, Feänorian and Peredhil tended to agree. The difference being that only one side believed they deserved it.

“Don’t,” he told the boy. “If the Silmaril made it West, there’s a chance your parents did too, and they are now in the Valar’s care.”

That subdued Elrond, who glanced sullenly at the ground. Elros looked up hopefully at the star. “Then let us pray they are treated with honor,” he said, in the flowery way he tended to when he wanted something he said to be noted and remembered.

Barely two months he had known the twins, but already he felt he knew them like the back of his hand!

“We should go back to camp,” he said. “You need to be in bed.” He looked at the stars. “So do I, as a matter of fact.”

As the last word left his mouth, his stomach dropped. They may be children, but what authority did he have to order them away from what might be the only enduring memory of their parents? Their former lives?

He could only hope that Eärendil and Elwing still lived. He had little hope for Elwing, for he had seen her go over the edge of the cliff at the points of his and his brother’s swords. And if her husband still was on his doomed quest to Valinor…

He was shaken from these dark thoughts by Elrond’s tiny hand. “Makalaurë?” he asked.

“Sorry. I was daydreaming.” He clapped the boy on his shoulder, and then immediately withdrew it, shame hot within him. But Elrond just looked up at him and gave him a tiny, heartbreaking smile.

Elros was halfway across the clearing. “Are you two sloths coming?” he asked.

“Not so loud,” Maglor called to him. Then winced. He had been just as loud. Elros grinned, as though this hypocrisy was the point of a prank.

While his brother loped ahead to the camp (“Stay close!” Maglor warned in vain) Elrond stayed at Maglor’s side. The Feänorian had never known him not to go with his brother and conspire away from him and Maedhros when he got the chance.

“Now, really,” he asked. “Are you alright?”

Elrond pointed at the star. “That’s Ada,” he said softly.

“...What?”

“That’s Ada,” Elrond repeated matter-of-factly. “I didn’t want to upset Elros, because I can’t explain how I know. But I know that father is up there, with that star. I don’t know why. Is it some kind of punishment?” He looked at Maglor, eyes unexpectedly red. “Are the Valar hurting him because he went to Aman when all Men and Elves are banned?”

Maglor was still trying to wrap his mind around Eärendil being a Silmaril-star now when Elrond wrapped his arms around his torso and buried his head in Maglor’s chest.

He nearly gasped aloud. He hoped Elrond couldn’t tell his body was taut as a bowstring. Neither of the boys had ever…

Slowly, doubtfully, he placed his arms around Elrond in return. He hadn’t hugged someone else in a very long time. He forced himself to relax.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Maglor said. He slowly tried to relax. “I’m sure he’s not being punished. Your father went on his quest to save us—” so Elrond and Elros had told him “—to save _you_ , so I’m sure the Valar would not punish him for that.”

Elrond just continued the hug. “I hope you’re right,” he said.

“I know I am,” Maglor said. “The Valar save their wrath for those… for those who truly deserve it.”

Elrond looked up at him in honest concern, telling Maglor he had failed to mask his own fear this time. Maglor tried to grin at him, confident as a Tree-born Elf-child, and brushed a lock of hair out of the boy’s face.

And then, all of a sudden, Maglor knew who the boy reminded him of - his dark hair, his serious face, his pride, his lack of faith in the world to treat the things he loved the way they deserved.

He put his hand on Elrond’s shoulder again, and this time did not withdraw it. “Come. Let’s go to bed, all of us. And find Elros before he gets himself eaten up.”

Elrond laughed, cheered at least a little bit. “He’d take it as a challenge,” he said.

“My brothers were a lot like that, too,” Maglor said. “Celegorm would always tell us he was going into the forests to find something that wouldn’t bore him. Did I ever tell you about the time…”

Above them, the spreading sky glimmered just a little bit brighter.


End file.
